


Secrets in the Back of Your Mind

by rivers_bend



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-09
Updated: 2010-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivers_bend/pseuds/rivers_bend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk's overtired and lets himself wonder if Spock's protectiveness has an ulterior motive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets in the Back of Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamlittleyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/gifts).



There is a blade swinging at Kirk's neck, and then Spock is throwing himself in front of it, and Kirk tries to shout but Spock's dissolving—they're both—Scotty. Thank everything for Scotty; Kirk is on his knees on the transporter pad on his own ship, and Spock is next to him, his damn fool head still on his shoulders, only a thin green line staining the shoulder of his uniform. And Kirk needs to yell at him, explain that he's the first officer of this _ship_ and he cannot be flinging himself in the path of machete-wielding rebels, but a captain looks ridiculous disciplining his officers from his knees, and there are all these people around and Spock would not appreciate a dressing down under these circumstances, and besides, Bones is already approaching with his med kit and a beady eye on Spock's injury and he's hardly going to wait patiently while Kirk tries to get Spock to explain the deficiencies in Vulcan logic that inspired him to value Kirk's life over his own.

Just then the ship lurches violently, and the alert sirens blare, and everything descends into chaos.

It isn't until several hours later—after Sulu has warped them away from the attacking ship, and Scotty has put out several fires in Engineering (only one literal, thankfully), and McCoy and the other officers have been debriefed—that Kirk can finally _think_ again. When he does, he realizes that this isn't actually the first time Spock eschewed logic to interfere with Kirk's fate. That it wasn't something specific to this mission. That Spock, perhaps, cannot maintain his logic when it comes to his captain.

Kirk should be angry. He _is_ angry. But a part of him—the part that has illogical, and inappropriate, thoughts about Spock—burns with something that feels a lot like hope. And longing.

That might have been the end of the thought process—Kirk is adept at compartmentalizing when he needs to be—but he's alone in his quarters, in his bed, twenty hours since he last slept, awash in adrenalin burn-out, still concerned about his friend, his first officer—_his Spock_—who is spending the night in sickbay thanks to a toxin on the blade meant for Kirk. They caught it in time and had plenty of the Vulcan-specific antidote, Bones assured Kirk (more than once), but better safe than sorry.

Kirk isn't himself, is the thing. Which is why, instead of composing a lecture for Spock about the duties of a first officer to his ship, Kirk slides his hand down over the thin t-shirt covering his stomach, and from there under the waistband of his shorts.

His thoughts go back almost three years to Spock on the bridge, eyes wild, black uniform shirt straining over his shoulders as he tried to choke the life out of Kirk. Kirk's dick rises under his palm at the memory. He hadn't felt like he was dying; he'd felt more alive than during any other fight or brawl he'd thrown himself into. Cramped, giving in to the inevitable, Kirk pushes his shorts down and kicks them off, reaches for the lotion on his bed table. He pumps his cock slick and then slows down, lets his mind drift.

To the time they were negotiating a treaty, maybe a year into their mission, and Spock stood at his shoulder, whispering advice into Kirk's ear as he caught nuances of the details flying too fast for Kirk to process, but stepping closer and closer as things got more heated until half his chest was pressed to Kirk's back and his hand was only inches from the ceremonial (but nonetheless extremely sharp) sword at Kirk's waist.

To the time only six months ago that he'd refused to follow orders, refused to go back to the ship, and had ended up nearly freezing to death in order to stay by Kirk's side.

To the time he threw a man against a wall, preventing Kirk from bloodying his knuckles on the man's jaw.

Fully hard now, Kirk returns to the feel of Spock's hands around his throat, has less trouble than he expected imagining those fingers under control, cutting off his air while Spock fucks into him, stripping his dick, letting him breathe again at the perfect moment. He imagines Spock using his strength to slam Kirk against a wall, pinning him there, kissing him, hands hard on his hips. Fantasizes about all the ways Spock could take him, twist Kirk's body to his will, for his pleasure.

Then, unbidden, he thinks about Spock's protectiveness turned to gentleness, slaying dragons only to lay Kirk out and worship every part of his body. (He's not himself, remember? So overtired. Overwrought.)

And that's what takes him over, Spock exploring him like a puzzle he must find the answer to, fingers—god, those fingers—tongue, all that hot, smooth skin, mapping Kirk, claiming him.

He's asleep before he can even swab his belly with a corner of the sheet.

 

Kirk doesn't remember his dreams, but he wakes up and goes straight to sickbay without even knowing that's his plan. He nods at Bones and heads for Spock's bedside, pleased in a whole new way than he has been in the past to see him sitting up, clearly impatient to get going.

"Spock," Kirk says, voice almost embarrassingly warm. "I need to see you in my quarters as soon as you're done here."

Spock looks at him closely. Something shifts in his face, though damned if Kirk can read quite what it is. "Yes, Captain," Spock answers.

"Yes, indeed."

Kirk turns on his heel and goes to wait for his first officer.


End file.
